


Ask Me No Questions

by the_random_writer



Category: Cut & Run - Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux
Genre: Affectionate Insults, Books, Bookstores, Gen, Questions, Snark, Stupidity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 15:09:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13367313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_random_writer/pseuds/the_random_writer
Summary: Zane and Ty take a moment to consider the joys of customer service.This one is for everyone who's ever had a shitty retail job. For those of you who haven't, if you think my examples are over-the-top, please have a look atthis site:-).





	Ask Me No Questions

For the third time that month, it was time to update the Wall of Shame.

They hadn't _actually_ written the list on a wall, but in Zane's opinion, the Whiteboard of Shame didn't carry quite the same ring.

They'd initially propped the board up on a shelf behind the main desk out at the front, but customer outrage and indignation had long since forced them to take it down. If there was one important lesson they'd learned about the business of selling books, it was that the customer was always right (except, of course, when he or she absolutely, _totally_ wasn't).

So now the board was hanging up in the kitchen instead, away from sensitive customer feelings, where only he and Ty and their various 'guests' could see it.

The Wall of Shame was the end result of them learning another, important lesson—there _is_ actually such a thing as a stupid question. And working in retail for more than a week had taught them firsthand just how _monumentally_ stupid those questions could be.

Zane stood a few feet away from the board, brows furrowed, sleeves rolled up, his hands on his hips, the whiteboard marker grasped in one hand. He always enjoyed adding a new line to the Wall, if only because it reminded him that, whatever other shortcomings he had, he wasn't the world's stupidest man.

Ty strode past the half-open door, a man on a mission involving a book. Or maybe a cat—Zane wasn't quite sure.

Zane smiled as he heard his husband grind to a halt, cackle quietly, then quickly retrace his steps to the door.

"You adding something new to the Wall?" the ex-marine asked, grinning like a six-year-old kid who'd just caught sight of the pile of presents waiting for him on Christmas morning.

Zane hooked his thumbs in the loops of his jeans. "Thinking about it, yeah."

Ty waved his hand at the board, and the two feet of empty space at the bottom. "Go for it, babe. Don't hold back on my account."

Sighing quietly, Zane pulled off the lid of the pen, stepped up to the board and leaned in to add a new line of text.

Behind him, Ty let out a horrified groan. "Jesus, Garrett, did somebody _actually_ ask you that?"

"They sure did."

"And it wasn't a kid?" Ty hastily added. "Cus we shouldn't really make fun of kids. Pretty sure if you wrote down all of the stupid questions _I_ asked when I was a tyke, you'd use up every wall in the store."

"Every wall in the city, I think," Zane murmured, but loud enough for his husband to hear. He grinned again. "And I don't think it's something you only did as a kid. You just turned forty-two, and you're _still_ asking stupid questions."

Ty huffed. "Am not."

"Are too."

"Like when?"

"How about last week, when you asked me what happens when somebody scares you half to death twice?"

"That's a perfectly reasonable thing to ask!"

"Or last month, when you asked me why if we're allowed to hunt deer during deer season, we're not allowed to hunt tourists during tourist season?" Although, to be fair, he'd sometimes thought about that one himself. "Or the time you asked me why the number eleven isn't pronounced onety-one? Or that email you sent me back in March asking if you're supposed to use a silencer when you shoot a mime?"

Ty wasn't taking Zane's grievances lying down. "At least _my_ stupid questions are funny," he shot back. "Yours're all philosophical and shit."

"When have I _ever_ asked a philosophical, stupid question? And what the fuck does that even mean?"

Ty crossed his arms and frowned. His right foot began to tap—a sign he was having serious trouble coming up with the proof to back up his charge. His frown blossomed into a grin. "Like when you asked me if I'd ever imagined a world with no hypothetical situations." He snorted slightly. " _Still_ tryna figure out how the fuck I should answer _that_."

"Don't sweat it, doll," Zane gently said. "And to answer your original concern, no, it wasn't a kid who asked me the question. It was a middle-aged woman."

"Well, bless her heart," the ex-marine said, using that West Virginian tone that had nothing of a blessing about it.

Zane threw the marker back in the tray. "You can just come out and call her a dumbass, you know. There's no customers around to offend, and I'm not gonna rat you out to your mom."

"Just wasn't sure I could stop at dumbass, is all. Cus that question would easily win the gold medal at the Stupid Olympics."

"I'll take your word for it. You've always been a much better judge of stupid than me."

Ty narrowed his eyes. "Did you just insult me all over again?"

"Course I didn't," Zane lied. "That was a compliment, I swear."

His husband obviously wasn't convinced. "Cus I'll admit to having my dumbass moments—"

"Most of them involving guns," Zane interjected.

"Most of them involving guns, yes," Ty huffily acknowledged. "But I have _never_ once in my _whole_ life gone into a bookstore to ask someone who wrote _The Diary of Anne Frank_."

"In the customer's defence, I think she thought the book was a novel."

Ty snorted. "What, like _Bridget Jones's Diary_ , but with Nazis instead of lawyers?"

"Something like that, yeah." His husband's comment made Zane pause. "Wait a minute, are you saying you've read _Bridget Jones's Diary_?"

"Maybe."

"You still trying to get in touch with your feminine side?" Zane asked, more than happy to seize the chance to give his husband another poke. "Bubble baths and scented candles not quite doing the trick?"

"It's not my fault I can't find a Doctor Pepper-scented candle."

"Was it any good? The book I mean."

"The Darcy guy was kind of annoying, and it could have used a shoot-out or two, but yeah, it was okay."

Zane strolled across to the coffee machine. He'd made the brew half an hour ago, so what was left in the pot would still be warm. "Don't think they see a lot of shoot-outs in England, doll. Except maybe the soccer penalty kind. The gun kind is more of an American thing."

"That's not what Liam says."

"Yeah, but when it comes to the chances of getting caught up in a shoot-out, Liam's an outlier who shouldn't be counted." He pulled a clean mug out of the cupboard, grabbed the pot and filled the mug up. "All of you Sidewinder assholes are, actually. You included."

"Right. Cus you've _never_ seen or used a gun."

"Never once in my whole life. In fact, I barely know one end of a firearm from the other."

"Is that why you can't shoot for shit?"

"I don't remember you complaining about my shooting skills when I was saving your sorry ass from a serial killer."

Ty flapped a dismissive hand. "You shot the fucker at point-blank range. Even my _mom_ could manage that."

Oh, how the insult tables had turned.

Zane dropped his voice to a menacing tone. "That's a real nice mouth you've got there, Grady. Would be a shame if something happened to it."

Grinning, Ty turned back to the board. He pointed to a line near the top. "The Anne Frank one's good, but my all-time favourite is still 'Do you have copies of Shakespeare in English?'"

"Yeah, I kinda like that one as well."

"That's because it gave you the chance to use the line about only having it in the original Klingon."

Zane nodded. "Now, when I die, I'm _definitely_ gonna go to Geek Heaven. Leonard Nimoy'll be waiting for me at the main gate." He sipped on his coffee and re-read the list. "Number three's still a good one as well."

"And one of the few we could actually answer with a straight face."

"For the record, no, you _cannot_ pay for books with your Starbucks card."

Ty pointed to a line further down. "My brain still dislocates a bit whenever I read that one."

"You mean you _don't_ know which part of the Bible has the scenes from Narnia in it?"

"Hey, c'mon. At least now I know _Lord of the Rings_ isn't based on a historical story."

"I feel like we should take this one off," Zane said, pointing to an entry in the middle that read, 'Do you sell artificial turf?'. "The guy was a senior, and we're three doors down from a DIY place, so I think he'd just come through the wrong door."

"Same for 'Where are your non-fiction novels?'. It was funny at first, but it's kinda lost some of its shine."

Zane grabbed the eraser from the shelf and wiped it neatly across both lines. "Done."

They contemplated the list again. "Did we ever find out if we have that new book by that dude with the awesome hair?" Ty asked.

Zane shook his head. "By the time that question came up, we'd long since learned to only offer to look up a book if the person knew the author or title, so I told the guy he was shit out of luck."

"Politely, I hope."

"When I am ever _not_ polite?"

"You want the answer as the whole novel, or the abridged audio version?"

"Ooh, book-themed insults. Way to go, Grady. Call me impressed."

"That's not saying much."

"The fuck does that mean?"

"Lone Star, you were so impressed by the automatic cleaning mode on the litter trays we bought for the boys, you spent three days trying to persuade them to poop just so you could watch it doing its thing."

Zane shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a simple man with simple needs."

"You're _definitely_ simple, babe, but not in the way you think."

"Funny."

Ty strode to the fridge—the _real_ fridge, not the fridge with the elevator in it—to pull out a cold can of pop. "It's depressing how many people do that, though."

"What, think I'm simple?"

"No, dummy, ask us to go find them a book when they don't even know the author or title."

"Right," Zane said, catching up to his husband's change of direction. "Wouldn't be so bad if they at least knew when the book was written, or what goddamn genre it was."

"I swear, if I had a dollar for every time I ask a customer what they know about the book they want me to find, and they tell me what colour the cover is, I'd be living in a beach house in Tahiti by now."

"Or for every time someone in the history section's asked me when they're gonna write the final part of the World War series."

"Don't forget the people who think we should have a section full of cookbooks for dogs."

"Or the people who expect us to look after their children while they browse."

Ty pulled the ring on his can. "I've developed the perfect solution for that one."

"Oh? Do tell."

"Last time it happened to me, I spent twenty-five minutes showing a six-year-old girl how to waterboard her Career Pilot Barbie." He paused to take a swig from his can. "When mom came back, kiddo had Barbie strung up by the heels, was lowering her headfirst into a travel cup full of juice."

Zane groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Jesus, Ty, you keep doing stuff like that, you're gonna end up on some kind of list."

Ty wasn't concerned. "Wouldn't be the first time," he said. "Pretty sure I'm still banned from the Hooters over at Conway and Light."

And the less said about _that_ disastrous Sidewinder night out the better.

"Speaking of Hooters," Zane started, "did I tell you about the woman who asked me if I would give her a discount if she showed me her tits?"

Ty coughed as he choked on his pop. He set the can down on the counter and gently thumped his fist on his chest. Once he had caught his breath, he asked, "When the fuck did that happen?"

"Couple of weeks ago."

"And?"

"And, what?"

"What did you do?"

"What the hell do you think I did? I'm married, and she looked young enough to be my daughter, so I smiled politely and turned her down."

"Did she have a nice rack?"

"Why the fuck do you want to know that?"

The ex-marine shrugged. "Curious, is all. Just because I'm happily married doesn't mean I can't appreciate a nice pair of tits."

"It looked pretty decent, yeah. I think if I'd taken her up on her offer, it would've been worth at _least_ ten percent."

"What about me?" Ty asked, suggestively flashing his brows. "What kind of discount would I get?"

Zane frowned and sipped from his mug, pretending to mull the question over. "If you asked me nicely, and showed me something that's _really_ worth seeing, I _suppose_ I could give you the Owner's Special."

"What the fuck is the Owner's Special?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out." Zane turned back to the coffee pot to refill his cup. "Ask me again at home tonight, I'll give you a _blow-by-blow_ description of what it involves." He strode out of the sunny kitchen, heading towards the front of the shop.

"I'm gonna hold you to that, Lone Star!" Ty called out after him.

Still grinning, Zane hollered back. "Meow Mix, I'd be thoroughly ashamed of you if you didn't."

As he arrived at the front desk, an elderly woman stepped through the door. She was moving quite slowly, and leaning heavily on a stout cane.

Ever mindful of his manners, Zane went to her instead of making her come to him. "Morning, ma'am, is there anything I can help you with, or are you just here to browse?"

Her face broke into a cheerful smile. "I'm looking for a book."

"Then you've definitely come to the right place," was Zane's respectful reply, even though _No shit, really?_ was what he wanted to say. It wasn't her fault he heard people say that at _least_ twenty times a week. He guided her across to the desk, where he placed his coffee mug on the counter and picked up the iPad they used to keep track of stock. "Why don't you tell me what the book is, and I'll check if we have any copies on hand?"

The woman nodded and smiled again. "It's the book they were talking about on that CNN talk show this morning. It sounded _very_ interesting."

Zane slowly counted to five. "Did you happen to catch the title or the name of the author?"

Now she laughed. "Oh, Lordy, no, I didn't. Now, wasn't that silly?"

"Can you tell me anything else about it?" Zane asked, thinking that if they'd discussed it on CNN, it must be a recent release.

"The cover was red."

"The cover was red," Zane flatly repeated.

" _And_ it had won some kind of award," she added, as if that magically narrowed the field to three.

"Okay, ma'am, why don't you have a seat, and I'll pop out back to take a look in our main computer." He guided her to a comfortable bench. "Shouldn't take me more than a couple of minutes, okay?"

She patted him gently on the arm. "Such a _lovely_ , helpful, young man you are. Thank you, my dear."

Zane stomped to the back of the store, muttering curses under his breath. "Meow Mix!" he shouted.

Ten feet away, Ty's head popped out from behind a shelf. "Here, what's up?"

"Stop reorganizing those books, cus you've got something better to do."

"Oh, yeah? What's that?"

"Can you call every realtor in town, and ask them how we buy a beach house in Tahiti?"


End file.
